


Winged and Wingless

by Invictusimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, Drawing Wings, Established Relationship, Fluff, Human Castiel, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Out, Painting on Skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2581646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invictusimpala/pseuds/Invictusimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you using this for, or can I ask?” Sam grins.  <br/>“It’s for my partner. He . . . he’s dealing with some stuff. He’s been sick lately, and he loves wings, so I thought it’d be a cool idea to give him some.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winged and Wingless

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I received on my tumblr. Thank you so much for reading, enjoy :)

Castiel has been down lately. Not sad, but not happy either. Since his fall, he’s missed his wings, missed being able to fly to Sam and Dean with a snap of his fingers and a simple thought of where he wanted to go.

Sam finds Castiel reading books about birds, about bees, about a lot of different flying creatures, and it makes him sad to see his partner in so much pain.

He looks up information about how he wants to go about his plan to paint wings on Castiel.

A local craft store sells paint that is non-toxic, body safe, and it stays for a few weeks on contact with skin. It’s meant for temporary tattoos, if you want to see if you want the tattoo in the first place, and Sam thinks it’s perfect.

He finds a random excuse to go out of the bunker alone. Dean stays to make dinner, and Castiel stays to read after Sam convinces him he really doesn’t need to come with.

Sam calls in his order, makes sure they have the paint in stock, and the woman on the phone tells him she has plenty in the back she can bring out for him.

“Great, can I have five bottles?”

“ _Five bottles_?” She asks incredulously, and Sam bites back a snort.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“I . . . sure. What’s your name?”

“Sam.”

“I’ll see you when you get here, Sam.”

He hangs up, keeps driving in the general direction of the store. He gets there an hour later, pulling into one of the only five parking spots there are.

The door is heavy, and he has to push to get it to open.

“Sorry about the door,” the woman says. She’s short, blonde, lips smacking as she chews her gum.

“Uh, hi, I’m Sam. I called about the bottles of body paint earlier?”

“Sure thing, honey. Hang on, let me just call Susan. Susan!” She yells, and a woman who looks like her mother runs around the corner. She’s wearing an apron that’s covered in paint, and Sam smiles politely.

“Oh, you must be Sam. Hang on, I’ll go get you the paint.”

Sam waits in front of the counter, looking around at all the brushes, bottles, sponges, easels. He listens to crashing in the back, and he wonders if he should go help, but she reemerges a little while later, breathless as she puts the huge bottles down on the countertop.

She starts to ring up the prices, and she glances up at him.

“What are you using this for, or can I ask?” Sam grins.

“It’s for my partner. He . . . he’s dealing with some stuff. He’s been sick lately, and he loves wings, so I thought it’d be a cool idea to give him some.”

“That’s very romantic. I hope all goes well.” He hands over the money, and then turns to leave, two paper bags in his arms.

“Come again!” He nods, closing the door behind him.

The drive back is faster, traffic is thinner. While Castiel is in the kitchen eating food, Sam sets it all up. He puts the bad sheets on the bed, the one’s that are ripped and stained so he doesn’t have to worry about cleaning up the bed.

The bottles are placed on it, and Sam pulls out the complimentary brush the woman slipped in while he wasn’t looking. The covers are pulled off the bed, and Sam puts one pillow down so Castiel can rest while Sam works.

He’s printed out a pattern, and he’s practiced for some time, determined not to screw this up.

“Cas!” He yells, and Castiel rounds the corner almost immediately. He takes one look at the midnight blue paint, the brush, the bed spread out for him, and he tears up.

“What are we doing?”

“I’m going to give you wings.” Castiel inhales sharply, blinking back tears, and then Sam has his arms full of him.

“Thank you,” he whispers into Sam’s ear, pressing a kiss behind it, and Sam hums.

“Anything for you. Come on, strip and lay down.” Castiel tugs his shirt off over his head, his pants down over his hips. He leaves his boxers on. Sam keeps his painting clothes on, already ruined so it doesn’t matter what happens to them.

Castiel lays on his stomach, hands above his head, head tilted to the side, eyes closed.

Sam squirts a glob of paint onto the tray, and it looks almost black, but the woman promised him it would dry a dark blue, not black like it looked.

He dips the paint brush into it, and then he starts. He paints the curves of the top of Castiel’s wings up his shoulders, down his arms as the tips come to life. He paints the base of his wings, finishing the outline of it.

Sam lets Castiel walk around a little bit after that, only to get water and use the bathroom, and Sam covers the mirror so he’s not tempted to look quite yet.

Castiel lays back down, and Sam uses a smaller brush to start on the detail of the feathers, the swipe of the primaries and the fibers on each one.

By the time he’s done, he’s tired, his arm and hand aching. Castiel is snoring quietly under him, drool pooling on the pillow case, and Sam taps him with a clean finger, waking him.

Castiel’s eyelids flutter open, and he sighs, yawning.

“Are you done?”

“Yeah, we just have to wait for it to dry. It should only take,” Sam reads the label of the bottle, “twenty minutes or so. Then I have to wipe the excess paint off and it should be done.”

Sam’s worried. The paint is still black on Castiel’s skin, and he doesn’t want Castiel to think about his real wings burning up like that, he wants them blue and beautiful, stark against his tan skin.

He guesses he’ll just have to wait it out. They take a nap, and Sam makes sure Cas doesn’t turn over in his sleep, kisses him on the nose every time he tries to.

When the timer on Sam’s phone dings, he fetches all the washcloths he owns, wetting them down. He wipes the paint from one shoulder, closing his eyes as he does. When he opens them, he finds a beautiful blue underneath the dark globs of dried paint. He breathes a sigh of relief.

He continues to wipe the paint off until Castiel is completely clean, big wings spanning from his shoulder blades down his arms. Sam tries not to gloat, but it looks _fantastic_.

“How does it look?”

“Awesome. Do you want to see?” Castiel nods his head, smile wide.

Sam climbs off of Castiel, goes into the bathroom to grab the full-length mirror he has there. He props it up in their room, turns it around as Castiel does, and he gasps, eyes wide.

“Do you like it?” Sam asks, and when Castiel doesn’t answer, dread wraps around his stomach, churning it uncomfortably.

“Oh, Sam, they’re perfect.” He whispers, running his fingertips over the line of paint that coils over his shoulder, down his upper arm.

“Really? You don’t hate them?”

“No, no, I could never hate them. Sam, you did so well. How did you . . . what -- I-I’m speechless.”

Sam steps around the mirror to wrap his arms around Castiel’s waist, tracing the wings, and Castiel shivers.

“Now you know how I feel around you.” Castiel rolls his eyes, but his smile and blush giveaway how he really feels. Sam kisses him square on the mouth, and Castiel melts into it.

“Thank you, Sam, really, thank you.”

“If you want, we can get them permanently done, tattooed.”

“I think I would like that.”

“Really?” Sam beams, and Castiel nods.

“Yes, I do.” Castiel kisses Sam again, but it’s just a slide of lips, clumsy because they’re smiling too wide. Sam laughs against his mouth, and Castiel copies it, a low rumble that shakes Sam’s chest in a good way.

They fall into bed together, still kissing, and Sam shoves at Castiel’s shoulders, but he’s unrelenting.

“We need to clean up.” Sam pants between kisses, and Castiel shakes his head.

“Later,” he growls, and Sam gives in.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)  
>  I am taking prompts there, if you're interested :)  
> (More info on that [here](http://invictus-impala.tumblr.com/post/99871679299/about-prompts-im-now-taking-prompts-yay-if-you))


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